Heretical Fishing

Book 3: Prologue

Book 3: Prologue

Corporal Claws grinned and puffed out her chest as adrenaline coursed through her tiny little body.

She was the most powerful otter in all the lands and seas, and now she had tamed the sky.

Claws stood atop a mountain of the fallen, their unmoving bodies a monument to her prowess. This was no metaphorical hill—oh no. She quite literally stood atop dozens of the cultivators that had been bagged up like grains of wheat and were being flown through the sky by her valiant steeds.

Claws unleashed a chittering laugh. She held her forepaws high, projecting the sound out over the moonlit landscape as her cackle grew, drowning out even the howling wind that rushed past her adorable ears.

Her mirth knew no bounds. Her strength was unmatched. Her coat of fur knew no equal. Her...

One of her captives was stirring.

Claws whirled, chirping with indignation at the cultivator that had dared regain consciousness while she celebrated. Using the giant net for footholds, she skittered around to find the offending human. She revealed her dagger-like teeth to display her displeasure, but when she found the man, she paused.

It was the man her master had told her to take extra good care of.

“Where...” he groaned. “Where am...” He trailed off as his eyes focused on Corporal Claws.

“Glaucus’s cursed herbs!” he swore, his eyes tracking the treetops below. “What’s happening? Where am I?”

“Shhhh,” she said by blowing air through her pointed teeth, then patted his cheek and cooed reassuringly. Everything was going to be okay.

“Sp-spirit beast!” he yelled.

He reached for his chi, and Claws sighed.

Sorry, master.

She sent a small jolt of lightning down her arm and into the man’s head, temporarily sending him back into oblivion. Fischer, her master, had told her to take good care of him, so when the man’s body went still, she readjusted the bow she’d tied to his head as a marker. The least she could do was ensure he was presentable. Scanning the surrounding cultivators, she found them still unconscious, and with a nod to herself, Claws climbed back to the top of the stack.

She cleared her throat, puffed out her chest, and resumed where she’d left off. Maniacal laughter rolled out through the night sky as she broadcast her joy for all to hear.

After only a few seconds, a cinnamon-colored paw tapped her on the back of the head, cutting her off.

Claws scowled at Cinnamon, her amusement morphing to indignation. For what reason did the deviant bunny interrupt her villainous chuckle? Rather than chastise Claws, however, Cinnamon pointed at herself. Balancing on her rear hoppers, the bunny stood tall, puffed out her chest, pointed at her stomach, and let out a slow, quiet laugh.

At first, Claws wondered if Cinnamon was having a medical episode, but then the bunny pointed at her stomach more emphatically. With each peep that came from Cinnamon’s throat, her stomach tensed.

Claws cocked her head all the way to the side as she watched, considering. After a moment, she copied Cinnamon’s posture. Rather than forced from her lungs, the laugh felt like it was shot forth from her core like a blast from Pistachio’s mighty clacker.

Claws trilled with delight and resumed laughing. She stood tall, as did Cinnamon. Together, they cackled their victory over the pile of cultivators they stood atop.

***

As Bill soared over the forest while clutching a giant net filled to the brim with cultivators, he wondered, not for the first time, if Claws might be insane.

Her jaw was spread wide as she trilled and chirped with laughter, her needle-like teeth shining in the moonlight. Beside her, Cinnamon peeped along with the same cadence. With each heave of their chests, their laughs only grew louder.

Suddenly, Claws stopped. She turned and spotted another waking cultivator.

Zap.

She struck the woman with a jolt of electricity. Before the poor woman could even hit the net again, Claws was cackling away, arching her back and facing her head skyward.

Bill shared a glance with Pelly, who looked just as concerned as he felt.

They were approaching the meeting place, so Bill let out a warning honk. Claws darted her eyes his way, but when he nodded toward the ground and she saw the incoming clearing, the scowl died on her face.

Claws hunched down low, wiggled her butt, and launched herself.

All Bill could do was shake his head as she flew groundward toward their master like an arrow in flight.